Disclaimer: I don't own the challenge; that belongs to Lee. Buffy and Angel and respective characters belong to Joss Whedon, and Ocean's Eleven belongs to Warner Bros.
Feedback: Please do.
Challenge: Basically, redo the basic plot of Ocean's Eleven with Buffy and Angel characters. Angel should take the place of Danny Ocean, and Connor as Linus Caldwell. The other characters are up to you.
Other Requirements:
Keep the running gag of the Rusty character always eating/drinking something.
All characters should be at the jobs they were in the movie (Frank a dealer in a casino, Basher in the middle of another heist, Rusty teaching movie stars how to play poker, Danny/Angel in jail, Livingston working freelance for the FBI, etc.)
Angel's Eleven
In the office of the Bellagio's manager, Gunn stood at attention before Connor and Abrams, Abrams sitting behind the desk while Connor leaned back against it, casually placing a beeper on the desk as though it had been annoying him. Trying to ignore Abrams' occasional glances at his watch- he was going to do this at his rate- Connor began to speak.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Escalante," he said. Gunn simply nodded in response in an off-hand manner, apparently unconcerned at why he'd been called here.
"Or should I call you Mr. Gunn?" he asked, trying to avoid putting the venom into his words that he would have done if he was in this kind of situation in real life; he might have done that, but not the character he was currently pretending to be.
Gunn bristled slightly at that, making a good appearance of trying not to let his anger show as Connor pulled out a Xeroxed mug shot and bio of him.
"You are Charles Gunn?" he said, looking critically at his colleague, taking care to keep his tone level. "Formerly of the Tropicana, the Desert Inn and the New York State penitentiary system?"
Gunn, true to the script, remained silent, and Connor spoke again.
"Your silence suggests you don't refute that," he said, as he turned to look at Abrams. "Mr. Abrams, I'm afraid you've been employing an ex-convict. As you know, the N.G.C. strictly forbids..."
"Goddamn cracker…" Gunn muttered under his breath.
Connor paused, genuinely shocked by this; he knew that he and Gunn needed to start a fight, but he couldn't believe Gunn was going to provoke it over something as ridiculously old fashioned like that…
Well, he was stuck now; he'd just have to go along with Gunn's chosen means of provoking an argument and hope for the best.
"Pardon me?" he said, looking in confusion at Gunn.
"You heard me," Gunn said, leering back at the son of his old boss. "Just 'cause a black man tries to earn a decent wage in this state…"
"That has nothing to do with-" Connor began, in a voice of feigned outrage that wasn't totally feigned; he had always hated racism when he was growing up, and even if he knew Gunn didn't actually think that about him, it still hurt to be called one.
"…some cracker cowboy like you's gotta kick him out on the street?" Gunn said, careful to remain sitting as he spoke; he had to be angry, but the kind of angry that left him still, not the kind of anger that would make him sit up. "Want me to jump down, turn around, pick a bale of cotton, but won't let me deal cards… might as well call it whitejack."
Connor paused for a moment, as though he needed to fully process that- which, of course, was still the case in reality- and then spoke.
"I resent your implication that race has anything to do with this," he said, before he turned to look at Abrams. "Mr. Abrams, I'm sure you know that the Nevada Gaming Commission has always supported the employment of the colored- I mean-" he began, as though trying to correct his error, before Gunn lunged towards him, roaring in rage as he held his hands out in front of him.
This was just the moment that Connor had been waiting for; as soon as Abrams had stepped in to try and separate the two men, Connor's hand dipped into the older man's tuxedo jacket and withdrew the combination for the vault that they were about to rob.
As soon as he saw Connor's hand move back to his pocket, Gunn stepped back, taking deep breaths as though trying to bring himself under control once more.
"OK… Gunn said, taking the occasional deep breath as he glared at Connor, his fists clenched. "OK… I'm cool."
Abrams didn't even bother to look at him; he just turned to look at Connor and raised a critical eyebrow as he studied the young pickpocket.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his tone barely reflecting more than the bare minimum of courtesy required.
Connor didn't even appear to notice it; he just checked himself over briefly, as though making sure he hadn't dropped anything, and then nodded.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said briefly; right now, that was all that needed to be said, as far as the plan was concerned.
Up in Willow's room, the monitors still blaring brightly in front of them, Wesley and Willow glanced at each other, broad smiles on their faces.
"He's got it," Wesley smiled, as he reached over to pick up his miniature radio. "Gwen, Faith: deliver your package. Connor has the combination."
Down in the main casino, each one dressed in their 'male' guard disguises, Faith and Gwen exchanged glances, Faith gave the box a reassuring couple of quick taps- their prearranged signal to let Oz know that everything was going according to plan- and then the two of them moved towards the door. As soon as they'd reached it, Gwen reached for her keycard, and swore when she 'failed' to find anything.
"Aw, shit…" Gwen groaned, as she looked over at her disguised sister. "I think… damnit, I lost my card!"
The guards at the door exchanged an uncertain look at that comment, before a security officer walked over, looking curiously.
"What's going on here?" the security officer said, looking curiously at the disguised Raiden sisters.
"I think…" Gwen said, continuing to pat herself over anxiously before she finally groaned and gave up. "SHIT! I lost my keycard!"
The security officer didn't need to think too much about it; this kind of mistake could easily get a guard fired, but it was most likely a first-time occurrence, and they were, if anything, already overstaffed tonight, so they could probably spare this one guard for the time he needed.
"OK," he said, nodding at the two sisters. "Leave the cart and go and find it." Glancing over at one of the sentries, he nodded and indicated the cart. "Take this cart inside."
The sentry nodded, pulled out his own keycard, swiped it through the reader, and then entered with the cash cart. Faith and Gwen only hesitated for the moment they needed to wait to watch it enter, and then they were off, both of them grinning in celebration.
The next phase of the plan was complete.
Oz was inside the casino's 'back alleys', on his way to the vault.
Now all they had to do was wait for the next phase of the plan to kick into action…
Up in the Bellagio Security Centre, Giles allowed himself a small smile as he saw the cart that almost certainly contained Oz being pushed down a corridor, while the guard carrying his briefcase moved down another corridor, both rapidly approaching the main elevator down to the vault.
All in all, things were going almost exactly according to plan.
If only he didn't feel so bloody nervous at the moment…
"There it is now," the casino manager said, indicating the briefcase containing his gems on the monitor before him.
If Giles' nerves hadn't started to fail on him, he would have made some sharp retort- it was in keeping with the character he'd been developing over the last few days, at least- but as it was, he limited himself to a brief "Wonderful," and hoped that nobody asked him why he was so anxious all of a sudden.
Up in the hotel room, as they watched Oz's container join up with the briefcase on their way to the vault, Wesley nodded grimly and stood up.
"That's my cue," he said, as he glanced over at Willow while simultaneously reaching into his pockets to pull out a fake pair of glasses. "Call Spike and tell him it'll soon be his time to shine; we need him ready to trigger the pinch in a few minutes, or it's all over."
"Check," Willow said, smiling slightly at the former librarian before she activated her microphone. "How's things at your end, Spike?"
"I'm there, Red," Spike's voice muttered at the other end of the line, a casual smirk apparent even in his voice. "Don't worry about it; I'll be ready in time to save your ex from suffocating."
"Spike…" Willow growled under her breath; she had enough problems with her current 'feelings' for Oz as it was without Spike rubbing them into her face like that…
"Just kidding," the demolitions expert said dismissively. "I'll call you when I've got everything set up; Spike out."
With that, the call was terminated, and Willow was left to just sit in the room, staring anxiously at the screens before her and praying that her friends would be all right.
Outside the room, Wesley, now dressed in a business suit and with thick-rimmed black glasses on his nose, raised a mobile phone to his mouth after dialing a number.
"It's all going according to plan," he said casually as he walked towards the lift. "Give it a few more minutes, and then contact Parker Abrams; Angel and Connor will be too far gone then to get out without anybody catching them."
"Gotcha," Lilah Morgan's voice said on the other end of the line, clearly grinning broadly as she sat casually in her office, the phone against her ear. "Now, are you sure you don't want us to deal with the others? All it takes is a single phone call, and they're locked away for a very long time…"
Wesley shook his head as he replied. "No, Lilah, I've told you before; I don't want them hurt," he said, as he stepped into the lift and pushed the necessary button. "I only want to ruin Angel's reputation among the others; everyone else is to be left alone, understand? I've only provided you with evidence that reveals Angel's role in things, anyway; you wouldn't have a proverbial leg to stand on if you went after the others."
"Oh yeah; so you can take control of the group and come up with your own plans at last, leaving them blissfully ignorant that you handed the old boss over to us?" Lilah continued, chuckling at Wesley's attitude once again. "You know, if I'd known this was all it would take for you to turn against Angel, I'd have tried it long ago…"
Wesley shrugged.
"It's unlikely it would have worked back then; it took me having some time to myself to realize how much I was wasting my time following his orders," he said dismissively, as the lift drew ever closer to the ground floor. "I have to go; I'll see you at the room in a couple of hours, OK?"
"Check," Lilah replied, before hanging up the phone.
As the lift doors opened in front of him, Wesley smiled casually.
Showtime, he thought grimly, as he stepped out of the lift onto the casino floor.
In the 'back alleys' of the casino, Gunn, Connor and Abrams finally exited the room that the two 'businessmen' had been questioning Gunn in. As soon as the door was shut, Abrams beckoned two nearby security guards over to him, remaining silent until they were standing on either side of him.
"Please show this man off the premises," he said casually. Then, as the guards moved to stand on either side of Gunn, he turned to glare at the man who he'd only just learned was a former convict.
"Don't step foot in my casino again," he said coldly.
"After this treatment?" Gunn retorted, jerking his head at the men behind him. "You couldn't get me back in here if you paid me, man."
Of course, Connor and Gunn both knew that there were other reasons behind Gunn's reasons for never returning to the casino- if nothing else, he'd soon be coming into so much money that, properly handled, he'd never really need to work again unless he felt like it- but there was no point mentioning that, was there?
As Gunn was led away, Abrams sighed and glanced down at his watch; clearly, Connor noted with some satisfaction, this business had taken up a significant amount of his time.
"Mr. Wills," he asked, turning to look at Connor critically, as he indicated the corridor leading to the exit, "if you don't mind..."
"Of course," Connor said casually, turning to face the other man. "Lead on."
As they walked away from the room, Connor carefully counted out the steps he was taking, waiting for the appropriate moment to make his next move; he needed to be far enough away from the office to give him enough opportunities to get away from Abrams' line of sight, but at the same time near enough to the main door that Abrams wouldn't want to go back himself…
Finally, after about a hundred steps, Connor patted his pocket and groaned.
"My beeper," he said by way of explanation, looking back at Abrams with a falsely apologetic expression. "I'm sorry; I must have dropped it back in the room."
As the other members of the Eleven had anticipated, Abrams, although torn between his annoyance at getting further behind schedule or his desire not to leave anyone alone in the 'back alleys' of his casino, needed only one glance at the cameras to reassure himself that there wasn't a particular risk at this juncture. Of course, Connor would been prepared to knock the guy out and run for it if he had to, but, naturally, he'd rather not go that unless it was absolutely necessary; it would attract too much attention
"You know how to get back out?" the casino owner asked, looking inquiringly over at Connor.
"Of course," Connor said, nodding politely at Abrams as he turned around and began to walk back the way he'd come. "Enjoy the fight!" he called back at the man he was about to ruin, before he rounded a corner and allowed himself a small smile.
He was inside the casino, with the combination codes that would allow him access to the elevators down to the vault itself, and, in a matter of seconds, Willow was going to start the cameras showing what they wanted people to see, rather than what was actually happening.
Let's go, Connor thought to himself, as he began to hurry along the corridor towards the lift to the vault.
As he sat on the table in the small room the two goons had taken him off to after his little 'meeting' with Buffy in the restaurant- although he wasn't sure if the term was accurate, given how briefly they'd spent talking-, Angel smiled casually at the goons before him.
"How much longer do you think Mr. Abrams will be?" he asked, casually tapping his watch. "For all you know, I might have an appointment."
"Just a few minutes more," the guard replied dismissively. Taking advantage of the silence, Angel's eyes flicked around the room, before he smiled casually and turned back to look at the men before him.
"No cameras in this room, huh?" he said, indicating his surroundings with a brief nod of his head. "Don't want anyone seeing what happens here?" he added casually, hardly surprised when the goons said nothing.
If nothing else, the answer to the question was so obvious that he'd have to have been a complete moron if he'd asked the question with a serious desire for it to be answered…
There was silence for a few minutes more, and then Angel glanced at his watch, sighed, and looked back up at the two men.
"He's not coming, is he?" he said dismissively.
The two men looked at each other, and Angel swallowed slightly.
He'd guessed the truth.
Now all he needed to know was the answer to his next question.
"Who is?" he asked critically.
As soon as the words had left his lips, there was a knock on the door. Turning around, the nearest goon opened the door, revealing a tall man, a few inches taller than Angel, covered in tattoos with extremely well-developed arms. A slight smile was on his face as he studied Angel, but that was the only trace of emotion; his eyes were otherwise cold and hard.
"I guess Mr. Abrams didn't like me talking to his girl?" Angel asked, once again as casual as though he was just dealing with an old friend who'd shown him a picture.
"We're gonna step outside now," the second goon- the one who hadn't responded to Angel's earlier question- said, a small grin on his face as he indicated Angel and the new arrival. "Leave you two alone to… talk things over."
As the goons exited the room, Angel waited until the door had completely shut behind them. Then he sighed, jumped off the table he'd been sitting on, opened his mouth to speak…
Only for the other man to punch him in the face.
"AH!" Angel groaned, clutching at his suddenly-sore mouth as he glared critically back at the other man. "God, Xander, we'll get to the 'hitting me' part of the plan later, remember?"
Xander Harris, Angel and Buffy's former ally back in the days when they'd each had their own detective agencies, shrugged dismissively as he looked at the ex-private detective.
"Yeah, I know; I just wanted to get one in now so I know what sound you make for imitation purposes," he said, casually wiping the faint trickle of blood on his hand off as he looked at his old 'friend'.
Of course, Angel knew that there was more to it than that- Xander may have come to accept Angel's relationship with Buffy, but he'd made it clear time and again that he didn't like it, and probably regarded this as one of those rare opportunities when he actually got to vent his frustration from that time.
After getting out of prison, Angel had done some independent checks on those members of the 'old group' who he wasn't recruiting for the current heist; Xander, he'd been surprised to note, doubled up as a construction worker/ carpenter and the occasional hired muscle for those occasions when businesses needed somebody who was good at heavy work. After discovering that Xander was currently 'stationed' in Vegas, Angel had contacted him about the plan, offering him a couple of million dollars if he could ensure that Abrams hired him for any 'bruiser work' that had to go on during this particular heist.
"Eh, no big deal," he said, shrugging it off dismissively as he spat out a last speck of blood and looked curiously at Xander. "How's the wife- Anya, wasn't it?"
"Oh, she's just pregnant… again," Xander responded, sighing in frustration as he studied the gold ring on his hand. "It's just a good thing we got most of the money from those crime families we take down…"
"Hold on; she's pregnant again?" Angel said, a broad smile crossing his face despite the situation. "You know, it's those details that leave me wondering what the hell your wife has against bunnies; the fixation she seems to have with sex, you'd almost think she was part bunny herself!"
"Yeah, I know; I've thought that myself on a few occasions," Xander said, chuckling to himself as he reached over to grab a nearby chair. "Anyway, shall we do this thing?"
"Please," Angel said, nodding gratefully as Xander dragged the chair over to under the room's air vent. "Let's get this over with; the sooner we're done here, the better."
Up in her room, currently alone as she studied the monitors before her, Willow watched eagerly as the video monitor displaying the vault revealed the vault doors opening to expose the container holding her ex-boyfriend, Giles' case in the hands of the man beside him. As she watched, the container was wheeled into the 'holding area' for it and similar containers in the centre of the room, the guard turned around to walk out of the vault…
And then the other guard placed Giles' briefcase on top of the container with Oz inside it.
"Oh crap..." Willow whispered to herself, as she stared at the sight before her.
She may have faith in Oz's acrobatic abilities, but he wasn't expecting something like this to take place when he opened the container lid; if he opened the lid with that case on it right now, the case would fall off, land on the floor, trigger the motion sensors…
And then, it would be game over before it had even started.
Back in the Bellagio security centre, his eyes fixed on the monitors, Giles witnessed this as well. He barely managed to stifle his instinctive curse at this unexpected turn of events- the evening had just become significantly more complicated- but, at the same time, there was nothing any of them could do to alert Oz to this new occurrence.
"Does that satisfy you, Mr. Zerga?" the security manager asked, glancing over at Giles.
"Yes, I'm…" Giles swallowed, once again cursing his ulcer- in his current state, the bloody thing had been causing even more havoc – and continued, "…very satisfied.
Fortunately, the manager didn't appear to notice his somewhat shaky condition; his attention was more focused on the vault doors that were presently being sealed shut on the monitor before him.
As the door shut before him, Giles cursed his health once more. He was beginning to sweat from the stress, his mouth was so dry that he couldn't even manage to swallow, and he kept on having to stop himself from patting his pockets to search for his medication without actually managing to find anything.
If he didn't get out of here soon, he'd have a serious problem on his hands…
Down in the casino 'back alleys', Connor walked casually through the corridors, his eyes flicking back and forth for guards as he made his way towards the elevator doors.
True, he'd already taken the opportunity to memorize the keypad combination on his way there, which at least might add that little extra bit of credibility to his presence if somebody walked in on him as he entered the code, but he'd still rather get this over and done with as soon as possible…
As she stared at the cameras around the vault, Willow smiled in relief as she saw Connor come around the corner, his posture as casual as though he did this sort of thing any day of the week.
If he'd been anybody else's son, she would have called it arrogance.
But this was Angel's son, and she knew what he and his father could do if they put their minds to it; with that in mind, his attitude wasn't arrogance, but merely confidence in his own abilities.
"Almost there, Brood-Boy…" Willow muttered to herself, staring anxiously at the screen before her, her fingers hovering anxiously over the keypad.
In a moment or two, the time would come for her to do her thing once more…
Glancing over at the monitor displaying the control room itself- Abrams was almost ridiculously paranoid about his security, in Willow's opinion- Willow's eyes widened in shock as she saw Connor displayed on the monitor showing the inside of the lift, in full view of everyone looking at the screen."Who's that?" the floor manager said…
Just at the same moment Giles flung out his hands and grabbed the metal railing before him, his face twisting in agony as his grip on the railing tightened.
If Willow hadn't know about the plan, even she would have believed that Giles was having a heart attack.
As it was, as he collapsed to the ground, successfully distracting everyone's attention from the monitors, Willow could only smile casually as she tapped the necessary keys on the keyboard before her.
"Going to video…" she muttered grimly, "…now."
With that, down in the control room, the security monitors showing the lift, which had shown Connor standing in them only moments ago, now showed nothing but an empty lift, recorded by Willow exactly twenty-four hours previously; even if anyone looked carefully at the clocks in the lift, they wouldn't see anything out of the ordinary.
With that, Willow sat back casually in her seat, staring at the monitors with a satisfied smile on her face, and waited for her next moment of glory to come up.
As he stood inside the elevator, glancing around him one last time to make sure the camera had been rerouted, Connor smiled casually as he tossed his briefcase off to one side.
It hadn't been easy making Abrams believe his cover story, but he'd pulled it off.
Shrugging off his long coat, he reached up the elevator's ceiling and ripped down its panel to reveal a trap door. Connor was just reaching up to pull down the trap door when a hand yanked it open from above…
Revealing the casually-grinning form of Connor's father squatting over the lift entrance as he grinned casually at Connor.
"You didn't really think I was gonna sit this one out, did you?" he asked, apparently unconcerned about the shocked expression on his son's face.
"What, didn't you trust me?" Connor yelled up at his father. He knew he'd tried to teach himself not to place too much importance on his father's opinion in a situation, but, after he'd come so far on his own, to suddenly have Angel show up like this…
Angel, however, seemed unconcerned about the inner turmoil; he just smiled reassuringly at Connor, a slightly apologetic expression on his face for his actions.
"I always did, Connor," he said, as he crouched down before the hatch and offered his son his hand. "I just now have proof that my trust wasn't misplaced."
For a moment, the two men stared at each other, Connor in uncertainty and Angel in hope, until, finally, Connor nodded in resolution, took his father's hand, and allowed himself to be helped up to the roof of the elevator.
Even as the father and son team prepared for their descent into the casino, the action was continued to develop above them. In the MGM Grand Arena, the crowds were settling down into their seats, Abrams and Buffy taking their pre-saved ringside seats as David Nabbit settled himself in around the middle of the audience, the two women sitting on either side of him. Anxiously glancing at his watch, Nabbit noted that, if everything was going according to plan, Connor should be about to descend into the vault, Giles was presently having his 'heart attack', and Spike was preparing to set off the pinch.
Nabbit had to admit, he was looking forward to seeing how the last one would affect this particular confrontation that was about to unfold before him…
"Ladies and gentlemen!!" the announcer yelled from the middle of the ring, breaking Nabbit's train of thought and forcing his mind back onto the matter at hand.
He could worry about the plan in private; right now, he had to look as though he was fully occupied with watching the fight.
Inside the casino itself, as the guards looked anxiously at each other following the call they'd just received- something about a medical emergency in the monitor room- a man in his late twenties to early thirties walked out from among the slot machines towards the cage door.
"Someone called for a doctor?" 'Doctor' Wesley Wyndham-Pryce asked casually, managing to restrain the broad grin he felt on the inside as he approached his particular contribution to the final stages of the plan.
In a matter of minutes, everything would come to a head, and he'd know whether the risks he'd taken here had been worth it.
Back in the elevator shaft leading to their current target, Angel and Connor were preparing for the raid. As the father and son team of thieves crouched above the only elevator that would take them down to the vault, Angel shrugged off his jacket and shirt, exposing the
"How'd you get here?" Connor asked his father as Angel shrugged the rappelling line off his shoulders.
"Crawlspace," Angel said dismissively, indicating a nearby vent. "And I had to give away a couple of my millions to an old friend."
"But what about-" Connor spluttered indignantly, even as he shrugged off his own suit to prepare for the upcoming descent. "I mean, that whole thing with Wesley…"
Angel just smiled casually at his son, even as his mind flashed back to that particular conversation.
He and Wesley had known that Connor resented his small role in the overall plan, but, at the same time, they couldn't come up with a plausible reason to put Connor- a relative newbie to this kind of 'long con'- on the spot like that without making it look as though Angel was doing the one thing he'd promised not to do; showing favoritism to Connor just because he was Angel's son.
Then Buffy's presence had been revealed to the group, and Angel had come up with the perfect means of incorporating that into his plan and allow Connor the chance to play a more important role in the heist.
By deliberately jeopardizing his role in the plan- the odds of nobody seeing his 'confrontation' with Buffy in the restaurant were slim to none, given all the cameras Abrams had in his casinos- Angel had ensured that he couldn't play his original role in the plan, and, with everybody else already accounted for, the group would have been 'forced' to select Connor as his replacement.
As far as Angel and Wesley could see, nobody was the loser in that new plan; Connor would get to play a more important role in the plan than just the observer, Angel would get to see his son in action, and the group as a whole would begin to accept that Connor was involved in the heist because of his own merits as a pickpocket, rather than just because he was the son of the plan's originator.
(OK, that last one admittedly wasn't an actual problem for the group as a whole- none of them had a problem with Connor joining their team for the heist- but the point nevertheless stood; this was the only way Angel could come up of allowing Connor the chance to show his own talents without significantly altering the original plan at the last minute.)
"But… Connor stuttered, bringing Angel's thoughts back to the present as he looked at his confused son, "why'd you make me go through all this? Why not just tell me?"
Angel just smiled casually as his son.
"Well, where's the fun in that?" he asked nonchalantly, as though he was just asking Connor for his opinion on something they'd seen on television recently- this wasn't the time or place to go into full detail about his reasons for 'swapping places' with Connor- before indicating the edge of the elevator. "C'mon: Oz only has about three minutes of air left before he's in trouble."